


Shoot the Moon

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Angst, Community: fan_flashworks, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 09:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20757776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Tycho suffers under the weight of his NRI restrictions. Wedge does his best to help.





	Shoot the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for fan_flashworks prompt "it's a trap!" Also my SIX HUNDREDTH fic posted to this site, holy crap!!

Wedge doesn't make eye contact with the guard outside of Tycho's quarters. He doesn't ask permission to enter. He doesn't acknowledge her at at all. He knows she's only doing her job, but that doesn't mean he hates having her there any less. He knows the constant surveillance is causing Tycho no end of stress and anxiety; that's one of the reasons Wedge has come to check on him.

Wedge presses the door's buzzer, holding back a wince at Tycho's call to enter – his friend sounds tired, defeated. Wedge finds him halfway through sitting up on the bed and feels suddenly guilty to have intruded. At least the tension in Tycho's face seems to relax a little when he sees who his visitor is.

“What can I do for you, Wedge?”

“I just wanted to check on you. You seemed off today. But if you're resting, I can come back.”

Tycho sighs and shakes his head, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It's fine. I couldn't sleep if I wanted to.”

Wedge frowns, taking a seat on the bed next to him. “That bad?” he asks.

Tycho closes his eyes for a moment, seeming to gather himself. “This is all harder than I expected. I don't know what it was about today in particular, but I just...I'm tired. All the distrust and the questions and the lack of privacy and not knowing when or if it will ever end...

“I volunteered for these restrictions. I knew what I was getting into. But-” Tycho stops for a breath, clearly struggling to control himself. “I didn’t _know_. It’s so much, Wedge. Everything I do, there’s one of them there watching. I can’t walk down a hall or go to the refresher without someone timing me make sure I’m not getting up to mischief in there.” He shakes his head slowly, then indicates a datapad on the desk. “I was trying to write to Wes. He asked how I was, and I can’t even be honest with him. Anything I write, Intelligence is going to read.”

It hits Wedge very suddenly exactly what he means. “It’s not even a secret,” he says slowly, grasping a whole new layer of his friend's pain. “But you don’t need them to know every detail of exactly how much you’re hurting.”

Tycho hangs his head and says weakly, “Exactly.” When he looks up again, there's a strange expression in his eyes. “Do you know there are things I miss about Akrit’tar?”

Wedge’s breath catches.

“I mean it. There I was just another person. They beat me, sure, and they did their best to work me to death, but they did that to every prisoner. I could lay in my bunk at night and hurt and cry, and I was just one of many. I didn’t have to pretend to be okay because any show of emotion might prove I was unstable and dangerous.”

“Tycho...” Wedge has no idea what to say.

Tycho shakes his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

Wedge reaches for him and lays a hand on his arm. “I’m glad you did. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. I want you to be able to talk to me.”

Tycho lets out a breath. “Thank you. It really means a lot that I have you on my side, I mean it.”

“But it doesn't make it all stop. I'm sorry.”

Tycho nods. “I just hate feeling like I'm trapped. On Akrit'tar, there was a chance of escape, and obviously I eventually did. Here, this situation...I'm home. I'm with the good guys, and this is still how I feel.”

Wedge aches to do something to help him. He can barely fathom the distress this has to be causing him, what that actually feels like that can't be put into words.

“It won't be this way forever,” he says softly, and hopes like hell it isn't a hollow promise.

Tycho gives him a sad little smile. “I know you believe that, and I know you're going to do everything in your power to make it true, but what if it's just not? Wedge...I honestly don't know how long I can live like this.”

Wedge swallows, words rising up. He'd meant to think on this longer, to really consider the possible ramifications, but he thinks Tycho needs to hear it now. “What if I got you out on a mission? Away from your guards, doing something vital to help the Rogues, the New Republic, and me.”

Hope sparks in Tycho's eyes, exactly what Wedge longed to see.

“It would be a risk,” Wedge cautions, because as much as he wants Tycho to feel better, as much as he knows Tycho needs something like this, he wants him to understand. “I'll help you get away, but this would be unsanctioned. If it went badly, if things fell apart, you could end up even worse off. Even if everything went off without a hitch, there's no guarantee of how everyone might react to your part in it. In the end, it might still make things worse rather than better.”

“I want it, Wedge.” Tycho's entire presence seems to blaze with sudden conviction. “Tell me what to do. Anything.”

Wedge allows himself to smile and squeezes Tycho's arm. “Rogue Squadron is going to retake Coruscant, and you are going to help.”


End file.
